


The Light In My Life

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: ron_draco_fest, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: Ron doesn't generally enjoy his job, but when his favourite client visits, he absolutely loves it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings or Content** : Prostitution  
>  **Disclaimer** : I do not own these characters or anything you recognise.  
>  **Notes** : I wish to thank my beta, the lovely themightyflynn; you were excellent. I'd also like to thank the mods for running this fest once again.

Thunder crackled overhead as Ron stood at his bathroom sink, attempting to shave his beard. He wasn't shaving it all off, just giving it a trim really, but the constant noise meant he kept jumping and then having to fix the little cuts and grazes that he made upon himself. He was going for that dishevelled, couldn't-care-less look, because he knew that's exactly what his clients bought him for. There were a myriad of other men they could choose if they were after perfectly pristine.  
Getting his beard just right was tricky, because the night's client knew exactly how he wanted Ron to look. A hair out of place and it would be noticed; he'd never hear the end of how he was 'ruining their experience'. While the upcoming client was a difficult one, they were actually Ron's favourite, not least because they tipped three times as much as anyone else.

They had a connection, or so Ron liked to think. He knew if he ever told his friends or family who he saw on such a regular basis and by what means, they'd tell him he was a fool; that his client couldn't be trusted. A long time ago, Ron would have thought them right, because that client was none other than his old school rival, Draco Malfoy. When Draco had first come for Ron's services, Ron had told him in no uncertain terms to _piss off_ ; he didn't want to be humiliated any further than he already had been. For Draco to even know Ron had had to stoop so low was bad enough, but to have to perform for him... no, Ron wasn't having that.

Except, Draco had an ace up his sleeve: he'd pay twice as much as anyone else. With a large family to feed, Ron couldn't say no to such an offer. He'd set some ground rules, though. Namely that nobody else—none of Draco's Slytherin friends, nor his father—could know what Ron was doing. Word could not get back to his family. They knew he earned money somehow, but they didn't know exactly what he did, and Ron wanted it to stay that way.

In a world ruled by Voldemort, work was hard to come by for blood traitors. They were left with few options, and this was one of them. He'd rather whore himself out than have his little sister have to resort to it.

Finally pleased with his beard, Ron put the razor back in the bathroom cabinet. He pulled on an old, worn pair of jeans and a red checked cotton shirt. He could afford to replace his clothes with newer ones, but it was the charm of these that Draco liked. It was as though Draco wanted to live in the past, and Ron with his beard and old clothes was a reminder of that.

Ron looked around the room quickly; it was a bit of a mess. He was thankful he had magic to tidy it up, and in moments it looked as if his mum had done it for him. She had, after all, taught him the best housekeeping skills she knew, and Ron had to admit, they came in handy a lot; he wasn't a naturally tidy person.

A knock on the door signalled Draco's arrival. Looking at his watch, Ron rolled his eyes as he saw how punctual Draco was. It was an irritating quirk of Draco's, Ron thought, as he himself was forever running late.

“Evening, Weasley,” Draco said as Ron opened the door. He practically pushed past Ron in his attempts to get in out of the cold and rain, taking off his coat and scarf and hanging them on the stand just next to him. “Nasty night, isn't it?”

“Mmm,” Ron mused, quietly closing the door so as not to disturb the neighbours. He'd left The Burrow early that morning, having had clients all day, so he hadn't been outside in order to check the weather. Draco didn't need to know that, though; he liked to think he was Ron's only client. “Would you like a drink?”

Draco wandered down the hall to the bedroom, stopping when he heard Ron's question. He turned, looked as though he was mulling over his answer, then pulled his hands out of his pockets. “I suppose I have a little more time today.”

“Right.” Ron raked a hand through his hair; he was a little embarrassed. He didn't want to come across too eager because then Draco might get the impression that something was up. And Ron definitely did not want there to be something up. Except, there _was_ something up. He just tried to deny it to himself. “Great.” Ron turned into the little kitchen, where a small table resided in the middle, and headed to the drinks cabinet. “Mead? Firewhisky? Butterbeer?”

Without needing to be asked, Draco took a seat at the table, crossing his legs as he did so. “A shot of Firewhisky should suffice.”

“Hard day?” Ron asked, handing Draco his drink. They rarely talked about anything outside of these walls, but Ron wanted to see how much he could pry from Draco.

“Not particularly.” 

“What exactly is it that you do?” Ron had never dared ask before. From reading the _Daily Prophet_ , he knew Draco was a wealthy businessman, but he didn't know what kind of business he ran.

Draco narrowed his eyes as Ron sat down opposite him. “Why?”

Ron shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. “Curious.”

A sip and a pause later, Draco answered. “I run a Potions company. I make my own special brews and sell them on.”

“Oh,” Ron remarked. He supposed that made sense; Draco had always seemed to be good at and enjoy Potions. “Any interesting mixes?”

Draco smirked, swirling his drink around in his glass. “There are a few you'd probably have a vested interest in, if you could afford them.”

Ashamed, Ron looked away. He had a pretty good idea what kind of potions Draco was talking about; he'd heard other men professing their wondrous effects. “I cope just fine.”

“I don't doubt it.” Draco finished the last of his Firewhisky and slammed it down on the old, ugly dining table. “Maybe I'll bring a sample or two round some time.”

Ron ignored that; he didn't need Draco's pity. “Another?”

Draco shook his head. “This is getting too personal.” He was clearly uncomfortable; his body language said as much. He didn't like to think of Ron as having more than himself as a client. “I don't ask you about your life.”

“No,” Ron agreed. “You don't.” Though he really wished Draco would. It'd be nice to talk to someone about it, even if it was someone who was on the other side. Not wanting to lose Draco completely, he took charge of the situation, finishing his drink and standing up. He headed to the bedroom, gesturing for Draco to follow him. He didn't look back to check that he was; he heard Draco's polished boots on the wooden floor. 

“Strip, Weasley,” Draco ordered the second they entered the bedroom and closed the door behind them. He walked over to the bed and lay down upon it, hands behind his head like he owned the place. Ron had to admit, he loved this side of Draco; it made him weak at the knees.

Never really learning the art of stripping, Ron simply removed his clothes one by one until he was naked. He knew the allure of this for Draco was that he loved humiliating Ron, but what Ron didn't tell Draco was that he didn't find it humiliating anymore. It was at first, of course, but now, it was exciting. Stripping led to sex, and Ron definitely wanted sex with Draco Malfoy.

Draco crooked a finger at Ron when he was finally naked. “Get me hard.” 

Ron obeyed, padding over and crawling onto the bed, positioning himself at Draco's groin and undoing his trousers. Despite the fact that Draco wasn't hard yet, he was still quite large; Ron had always struggled with fitting Draco in his mouth properly and not grazing him with his teeth. Still, it was a task he relished, even if Draco did sometimes require it to go on long enough to numb Ron's jaw.

Starting simply, Ron took Draco's cock in hand and slowly licked up to the top, and then down to the bottom again. He repeated this several times, until Draco's cock was twitching. He curled his tongue around Draco's head, licking the pre-come that had begun to appear. What Draco ate, Ron didn't know, but he always tasted sweet. 

“Don't tease me,” Draco ordered, pushing Ron's head down on his cock so Ron was forced to take it all in at once. Now it was almost hard, it was a mouthful, certainly, but Ron was never one to shy away from a hard task, especially when it was a thoroughly enjoyable one.

Ron bobbed his head up and down on Draco's cock, slowly increasing the pace until Draco was fully hard and making low moans. He cupped Draco's balls with his other hand and slowly massaged them, knowing Draco enjoyed the extra stimulation. His arse, though, was completely off-limits. Draco had told him on their first meeting in no uncertain terms that his arse was _never_ to be touched, and Ron had respected that.

Close to coming, Draco pushed Ron off his cock. Ron wiped his mouth on his arm as he waited for Draco's next instruction.

“Turn around,” commanded Draco. “All fours.”

Doggy-style was Draco's favourite position, so Ron was well versed in it by now. He spied the hot look of lust in Draco's grey eyes as he turned, which only fuelled his own pleasure. There was just something about those eyes that got Ron every damn time; he felt like he just sank into them.

Draco murmured a lubrication spell and placed his wand on Ron's bedside table. He traced a finger round Ron's arsehole, teasing it before slipping a finger in. Being in the business he was, Ron didn't need much encouragement down there, and it was only moments before Draco was fucking him with three fingers. 

Deciding that was enough, Draco removed his digits and placed his cock at Ron's entrance. “Beg for it,” whispered Draco.

As humiliating a command as that was, it was one Draco ordered every time, so Ron had known it was coming. He'd actually got quite good at begging now, so much so he even confused himself as to whether it was fake or not; he really did have a craving for Draco's cock.

“Please,” Ron said quietly, just loud enough to be heard. “Please fuck me. I need you in me, now.”

A snigger, and then Draco complied; he wasn't slow about it, either. He went straight in, all in, burying himself up to the hilt. It didn't hurt Ron, rather it gave him a feeling of fullness that he seemed to only ever feel with Draco. Fast thrusts followed, and then Ron felt Draco's hand around his own erect cock.

Ron thought Draco had magic hands; he always seemed to know exactly how to bring Ron to the edge. Once he got Ron there, though, he liked to keep him there for as long as possible. Draco just loved to keep Ron on his toes; he got some sort of enjoyment out of it. Ron believed he liked the power.

Draco fucked Ron with a fast-paced rhythm, using his hand to wank Ron's cock in time with it. When a loud, uncontrollable groan escaped Ron, Draco took his hand away, fisting it in Ron's hair instead. He pulled Ron's head back, forcing him to focus on the dilapidated ceiling above them.

“You're a good fuck, Weasley,” remarked Draco, his breath ragged as he neared the edge himself. “You should be proud of that.”

“I am,” Ron replied, unashamed. He knew he was good at what he did and, secretly, he was proud of it, whether that would be perceived as wrong or not. “Please, Malfoy,” he began to beg, not a single shred of doubt that it was real this time, “touch me.”

“Oh, but I am touching you.” 

Ron couldn't see the smug look upon Draco's face, but he knew it was there; he could _hear_ it in his tone. Merlin, it turned him on even more. “Touch my cock, Malfoy,” Ron clarified, so there would be no misunderstanding. “Please. Finish me off.”

“You'll come when I come, you know that.” Draco pulled a little harder on Ron's hair. “Don't worry, it won't be long now. Clench your arse for me, sweet thing.”

Desperate to come, willing to do anything to get Malfoy to come and therefore allow him his own release, Ron did exactly that. He clenched his arse muscles as tight as he possibly could, then loosed them, then tightened them again. He did this several times over until Draco's hand returned to his cock once more.

“Fuck,” Draco groaned. “Come with me, Weasley. Come now.”

Ron happily obeyed, spurting all over the brand-new sheets and shrieking as he did so as Draco finished inside him. Draco was a lot quieter than Ron when he orgasmed, but Ron knew he'd come because as soon as Draco pulled out, Ron could feel it dripping out of his arse.

Thoroughly debauched and not caring about his leaking arse, Ron lay down on the bed and looked at Draco, who was now leaning against the headboard with his hands behind his head like he had been earlier. He looked so in control, so comfortable, that Ron just wanted to pledge his entire life to him. He wanted to beg Draco to take him back with him, keep him in the attic away from Astoria if needs be, but as much as Ron felt like that, he had enough dignity to keep his mouth shut.

It could never be like that and Ron was perfectly aware of that fact. Over the months Draco had been coming to Ron, Ron had slowly been falling in love with him. He fell for Draco's smile, those hard, grey eyes, the tone of his voice, the way he carried himself; he fell for all of it.

And yet, he could never have it. So he would be content with these occasional visits, because they were better than nothing at all. 

They were the light in his otherwise dull life, and Ron would do nothing to destroy that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of an ongoing fest. To leave a comment, you may do so here or [on Livejournal](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/29161.html).


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